Dee Doubleyou

This is a letter to a former instructor of mine.

As a freshman, I idolized you. You were strict, but seemingly fair towards your students. I was an aspiring author, as I still am, and you were a language arts teacher. I assumed you could be my mentor and further my writing...

Instead, this is what happened:

My sophomore year, I approached you to further myself. You let my dreams sit on your desk for months, without even glancing at them. I was crushed. After finally getting my unfinished manuscript back from you, I took it home and I burned it. I lost my passion for writing and I fell into a depression.

You grew more and more bitter towards me every year, for reasons I knew naught. I excelled in all of your classes, I was a good patient student who rarely spoke unless speaking was needed, I didn't cause trouble, I did my assignments, and I was intelligent! You had no reason to treat me like the dirt you did.

I came to a realization my Senior year, you only liked a specific handful of students. The same sarcastic cynical brats, who idolized you, yet turned around and talked poorly about you behind your back. They were the gossiping pricks who took your "special" classes and did you "special" favors. They were your minions, your babies, and you were their God.

I graduated, inviting you to my party because you made a point to say if you had a time and place, you would be sure to go to everyone's party... You never came. It only edged my bitter anger deeper. Why didn't you go to my party? You picked me, the one person who for no reason at all, you hated more than any other student... Me. Probably the best student you will ever have had... and you didn't go.

I went to your play, the next year, to say "Hi, how are you?" and when you saw me, the first thing you said, "You were never my favorite student."

What the hell was that supposed to mean? Why? What was the purpose of saying that to me?

I sat down, solemnly, gritting my teeth and fighting back the angry tears, my friend put me in his arms and said, "You know why he hates you, don't you?"

"No!" I cried out, the seething anger boiling and festering in my body.

"Because he was going to be an author, but his book sucked, so he was turned down. Now he's a bitter old man and no one likes him."

It hit me then. He was right. You are just a bitter man. You failed at your one dream, and I reminded you of yourself. An inspired filled young author, who knew where she was going and what she wanted to do. You wanted to kick the dirt off of your feet, but instead, you got stuck in the mud. You became a bitter High School teacher, so you could destroy the dreams of those after you.

You almost did it, you fucking bastard. You almost made me think I couldn't do it. I was about to take your road. I made jokes of taking your job even. I know, I would never be a good teacher... and you aren't a good teacher. You settled, and know this you raging pile of dog shit, I will not settle. I will become an author, because you failed. You did not dispirit me, you only made me stronger. If I can survive unnecessary scrutiny for four years, I can do anything.

You, old man, go on. Continue being bitter, continue being hateful towards your students, continue being the jerk you are... and know that you failed. I am going to be more successful than you could ever have imagined.

You gave up too easily. I hope you enjoy your the life you settled for, you bitter toad. To all the times you deliberately forgot I existed. To all of the down putting things you did to me. To everything you ever said to try and get under my skin or hurt my feelings, I give them all back to you now, you ugly fuck. I am going to become a renowned author, and you are going to continue being a penniless instructor for the school district.

Shame on you for trying to destroy a young girl's dreams.

Sincerely,

Jessica Dawn Tracy

P.S.

Fuck you. :)

Why do I stick it out?

Giving up has clearly never been a relevant option, but everyday you see people questioning their own self worth. I have to say, even I do it.

Now, I'll tell you why I *don't* give up.

I have a loving family, who knows my potential sometimes better than I do. I have people who look up to me, and ask me for life's answers on a daily basis. If I gave up, what would I be telling these people?

I have no potential? I can't do it? The only way out, is down?

No, I refuse.

I will become successful, because I have set such ridiculously high goals for myself, there is no way to not succeed at *something*.

I implore everyone to do the same. Don't give up on your life. Set goals that are so high, you will have no where to go, but up. Nothing to do, but get better. That is what I ask of all of my friends today. Best yourselves! Don't compete with humanity or life, compete with yourself. You'll find everyone wins that way. :)

Cameron Hospital, you lethargic piece of shit!

I had an appointment for a CT Scan made for me about a month ago. Today was said scheduled appointment. Today, I walk in the doors at 6:55, and today I leave Cameron Hospital at 8:30...

In this time, I had to do MORE paperwork of sorts. Stamp my precious John Hancock on everything... and then, I am told to find the X-Ray room. Yeah, because I wander the hospital often enough to know where that is...

Anyway, after being lost and finding my way to stupid X-Ray and Laboratory, I am given the most horrid vile cream drink I have ever had the pleasure of ingesting. I literally had to plug my nose to keep from retching all over the waiting room. Not only did I get to drink one of these, but I got to drink TWO of them! Whole glasses full. A whole 16 ounces of what ever the fuck that was... sliding down my throat.

I swear I could feel the acidic sludge melting my organs away... or at least making them glow. Now, I understand how X-Rays work.

After an hour of sitting and waiting for the poison to make its way through my body, I am lead to a small room with an arc in it. I get to lay under the arc and wait while a woman undresses me, shit you not, and stabs my arm with an IV. (Hate those.)

In the "tube", hold breath, out the "tube", normal breathing. The nurse tells me to stretch my arm and let the fluid in the IV run in. It may do nothing to me, or it may make me feel warm.

Warm is a Goddamn understatement. My throat and chest were immediately engulfed in flames. My fingertips felt as if they would pop off.... and the worst of it all?! I felt as if I had pissed my own pants.

In and out the tube with "piss" in my pants.

Finish. IV is yanked out. I am told I have to wait "ten minutes" for the nurse to finish burning a CD for me. ?

30 minutes later, I get my CD and leave.

Stories

If you, my avid reader, noticed a missing blog entitled Merry Christmas My Love, that is because I have moved it to my new blog spot.

I have decided to keep things organized for myself, I am going to maintain two blog spots: one for rants and vents, and the other for my stories and to-be-books.

I look forward to comments and what not on my "famous" works.

Oh, and for my Fang readers, I will be posting Fang in its entirety onto the new blog spot.

Here's a link for you lazy bastards: http://jezieneechan.blogspot.com/


Enjoy!

Penn Valley, you lethargic piece of shit!

Oh. My. God.

I spent two hours... TWO hours waiting in a line watching as the faculty and staff at Penn Valley's Financial Aid office sluggishly helped people. If ever you were to see real life zombies... here they are.

Finally, I was helped, two hours after waiting, only to be slowly lead into the back office where a less than friendly woman tells me why my financial aid is screwed up and requires me to fill out a mountain full of paper work to fix it.

In any case, *points to title* Penn Valley is SLOW! You can't get anything accomplished in a timely fashion. Everything is confusing and... slow! I swear to God, these people are sedated before going to work every morning. I hate it, but it's one semester. I can do one semester.

*shudder*

CPR/AED Certified!

I am both. If you are dying, and I am conveniently there, I will save you.

Another Blogsite about ME!

I can see it now, everyone is just oh so excited to read the many blogs I am sure to post: rantings, ravings, fantasies, stories, poems. Yes, lines come in the millions.

Seriously, though, why am I doing this again? Well, I'll tell you why!

Upon my recent family misfortunes, my previous "blogsites" have been raped and pillaged by none other than my dear ol' mammy! Yes, that's right! She has read every word, every DETAIL of my despise towards her and her affectionate lover.

So, here I am, once more, creating a blog under a new pseudonym.

For my first order of work, I have decided to write an "About Me" in detail.

HELLO-O-o-o, my Raz Daz Droogs!

My name is Jessica Dawn Tracy. When I was little, I used to think my name was Jessica Dawn Middle Tracy, but Cookie Monster ate the middle, and that is how I became just Jessica Dawn Tracy.

I have one biological sister, two half-siblings, and a step-cousin who I have been calling my step-sister from the beginning of time. So, in all, I have four siblings. I would have to say, I am pretty damn close with each of them, but my baby brother and I really aren't close, at all. He's an annoying little butt of a six year old, and I'm the stereo-typical all knowing teenage college student. It's a love hate relationship.

My biological sister, Elizabeth, and I have been through hell and back together, more than once. She is on the Principal's Honor Roll, and receives high marks on most everything she does. Her aspirations are to become a loving, caring nurse for the elderly, mentally impaired, or infants.

My half sister, Sabrina, is the epitome of a teenage punk. She has a cell-phone, and abuses this privilege. I don't know what she wants to be, because she is quite fickle. I think my step-mother will probably make her go into some medical field, because it pays well.

My step-"sister", Pauline, has become more estranged from me as the years move on. We used to be best friends and I knew every detail of her life. These days have changed us all, and now she reminds me of the people I used to despise in High School. Always trying to fit in, because there's nothing better to do than to feign popularity. I believe, at least this is what used to be, she wants to be a photojournalist.

My half-brother, Nathaniel, is, as I said, an annoying six year old. He used to be quite charming and adorable, but these days, he's a demon heathen. Our parents have let him get away with too much without repercussions. He's spoiled, he's mouthy, he's boring, and very typical-as it turns out- as to what most children his age are like. What a sad realization for American Society.

Now, I shall introduce myself properly. I am a first-born child who holds those delivered after me, dear. I would do absolutely anything for those numnuts. *Said with love*

My aspirations pull me in the direction of being an author, more than anything else. I have no real interest in fame, wealth, or any of these things... just the name on a book and an autobiography stating my life, to keep me in the minds and memories of those after me.

I have a mother, a maternal figure, and the woman I call my mom. My mother, is a drunken half-baked teenager who abandoned my sister and me what feels like two years ago. My maternal figure is my grandmother. She has practically done all of the real mothering and raising. Finally, the woman I call my mom, is my step-mother. She has been more of a mother to me than my real mother, and since she is married to my father, she gets the title.

My father is a Med-Tech who really should have furthered his degree and became a doctor, because he knows more than most doctors do about patients. He has recently been promoted to "Van-Driving" but God only knows how that is a promotion... His real line of duty, is computers. That man is a computer genius.

My maternal grandparents are God-Sends. They're what makes a home a home. My paternal grandparents and I have never been close. They've never liked my adamant family loyalty.

I have a million uncles and aunts who are all getting married and having babies. Regardless to say, I will never have a cousin my age to play with, like most kids get/got/have. My mother had Beth and me when she was a teenager and her siblings were mere kids, themselves. My aunt, Dawn, is only seven years older than me. We've always felt more like siblings.

I have two pets, but I never see either of them. It breaks my heart. My cat, Aeris, is living with my aunt, for safe keeping. My dog, Pablo, is now my horrible "mother's" property, and I will probably never see him living again. I have always felt a specific close-ness towards animals and nature. I love animals... and my pets were my absolute best friends.

I will always prefer the company of a loyal pet to a friend.

I have a few friends who are worthy enough to mention. They're a resource of something or another... and I must admit, no matter what I am sure they'll always be there. Kellie was my best friend throughout middle and most of high school. We also grew apart when I hooked up with the biggest sleaze bag in town. We talk more frequently now, than we had been, but we're definitely not near as close. Claude and I have been close friends since about fourth or fifth grade. He's like my twin. I don't think we have much that isn't in common. Hainey was like a big brother to me, and always looked out for me. -I was madly in love with him for the entirety of High School and still harbor those feelings. Lastly, Maria... Maria, Maria, Maria... She and I became best friends my Senior year of High School. I feel we have grown apart, but she pulled me out of the roughest and worst of times...

If I didn't mention you, that doesn't mean I dislike you or you're not my friend. It just means you haven't done anything particularly note worthy, and you should really work on that! :p (Kidding!)